


After the Walls Came Crashing Down

by GlowingFireflies



Category: Naruto
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Diverges from canon starting at the pain arc, Fix-It of Sorts, Focuses more on the problems in Konoha, Gen, I had this tagged as canon rewrite before which is actually not accurate, I just think there was a lot of interesting stuff that canon didn't explore much, Introspection, Konohagakure | Hidden Leaf Village, My First Fanfic, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Politics, The side characters will get a little more development than canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-29
Updated: 2020-12-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:22:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28403175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlowingFireflies/pseuds/GlowingFireflies
Summary: Pain has just destroyed the village and then brought back to life everyone he killed, but the village is far from being entirely safe from the threats both inside and outside of it. While the villagers embrace Naruto outwardly, there are still many who view him with mistrust, and the recent disruption has only caused greater complications in the village's politics, with Danzou taking advantage of many villagers' fears to gain greater influence. Meanwhile, Kabuto puts the reanimation jutsu to use in a new way and Naruto, with the help of his peers, struggles to envision what a Konoha and Shinobi world without the cycle of hatred would look like and how to create it, grappling with his newfound responsibility as a leader and inheritor of Jiraiya's and Nagato's hopes for the future.[TEMPORARILY DISCONTINUED while I make a better outline/sort through my ideas](Basically a canon divergent story set after the pain arc (or however far I get) that explores some of the character details and village politics that I wish had been explored more in canon. I don't really know what direction this will go in so bear with me if you're interested. Feedback is appreciated!)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	After the Walls Came Crashing Down

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in a long time so I'm pretty rusty. Sorry if this chapter is a bit heavy on introspection and long descriptions, I'll try to cut back on that a bit in the future. I appreciate any kind of feedback since I'm trying to improve my writing.

In the darkness it was difficult to make out the rubble that was once houses and tea shops and classrooms. It was easy to think, for a moment, in the quiet peace of midnight’s blankness, that the same roofs rose above his head and would soon be illuminated by the spilling of molten gold across them at daybreak that he had watched from his window so many times, curled up alone on his bed but finding hope and calmness in the beauty of his home, and in his ever-flickering hope that he could someday make it more of a home to him than it had been in the past. He had made it a home now—received the warmth of a full embrace by the villagers, felt the flood of acceptance light up the dark crevices of fear and loneliness that had once lurked in his mind. At least it had felt that way for a moment. They were returning, now, creeping back into place, but he would find time to unwind them later. Now was the time to piece everything back together, to rekindle everything that Pain’s wrath had extinguished, to repair things that were broken and to build things anew that would hopefully withstand whatever tribulations the shinobi world had in store—the threats to survival stemming from both within and outside of the village walls. 

Naruto heard the sound of footsteps behind him and he turned to see a figure skirting around the outside of the tent he had come from. “Who is it?” he asked, only to recognize the figure as it approached.

“Neji!” said Naruto upon recognizing his old classmate from the academy. “I haven’t seen you in a long time! How is everything? How is your clan? I heard that you're all together at one of the southern encampment since the Hyuuga compound was destroyed.”

Neji nodded. “It’s being reconstructed quickly though. For a clan that is so attached to tradition, we do know how to adapt to the circumstances of war quickly. We are a shinobi clan after all. Adapting to other things, though—doesn’t come as easy,” he said, sighing.  
“You mean about the whole main and branch family thing?” asked Naruto, scratching his head. “I thought a lot was different now. I know you’re very close with Hinata.”  
“Things are changing,” said Neji. “But it takes work—Hiashi still fails to understand that the clan needs to adapt in order to thrive in the future. He still only sees the value of the Byakkugan as a tool for combat and as a way of keeping the advantage. His mind is still fixed in the ideas of hierarchy, although he has learned to be a bit kinder, more accepting and respectful. He values my ideas and will listen sometimes, and I think someday I may get through to him and he may come around to seeing things the way I see them—if not completely, at least enough to spare some pain and harm in the future. There are many others in the clan who are far less open-minded than him. You taught me that fate can be changed, but it is hard work.”

“Yeah.” Naruto hadn’t entirely been able to follow what Neji was saying, but it sounded important he hoped that Neji would be able to accomplish what it was that he wanted. Clan politics were somewhat foreign to Naruto, and the formalities of tradition and rank were not ones that he had ever had the attention span or interest to learn more about, but he supposed one day he would have to if he wanted to become Hokage. He was beginning to see just how complex and difficult the job might be, especially if he wanted to use it to change things—to end the cycle of hatred as he had promised Pain he would. The thought brought a hollow feeling to his stomach, a sense of dread that had been growing lately as he saw before him the magnitude of the dream he had taken on. “You know, when I was younger it was easy to say—‘I will become Hokage.’ It seemed really simple, I guess—a way of proving myself, of showing that I could be the best shinobi even if everyone thought I was the worst. I didn’t really think about what it would mean. It’s one thing to be loyal to my friends—but the whole village. That’s a lot of friends!” He gave an anxious laugh that caused Neji to glance at him. “Not that I’m not grateful, though.”

“We don’t know yet what the future has in store,” he said, tilting his head thoughtfully. “You were the one that taught me that destiny isn’t set in stone and I think it’s best to let things unfold and learn all we can in the time we have now. If you really are meant to be the Hokage, then the world may look quite a bit different when it happens. I have a feeling that Pain wasn’t the last of the village’s great challenges.”

Naruto didn’t find much comfort in the idea of letting things unfold slowly; he preferred bounding ahead so that there was never time for his worries to catch up with him, but he appreciated Neji’s advice and a part of him thought it was probably good advice even if he didn’t want to take it. And the ominous note at the end didn’t really help either, although it mirrored some of the feelings of dread that had been growing inside himself as well. He remembered then that Neji had been going somewhere before. “Where were you going?”

Neji laughed almost shyly, glancing away hesitantly before speaking. “There are these three kids I’ve been training, I guess. Just a year or so younger than me, but they never got to go to the academy and they don’t belong to an established clan. Two of them are orphans and the other is from a different village—they don’t really have much of a future as ninja as it is, but they want to. I guess they all feel kind of lost—like they don’t have much of a purpose or much they can do to change their fate, and I wanted to show them that that’s not true, kind of like you did for me. So I’ve been training them I guess, a couple nights a week since I don’t have much time during the days what with the rebuilding effort, and neither of them do either. But it’s nice, I guess, to make some new friends. And I feel like I’m learning how to be a better shinobi too, by teaching.”

“That’s really cool, Neji,” said Naruto with a genuine smile.

“Thanks,” said Neji, “I hope you enjoy yourself as the village’s new hero in residence.”

Naruto laughed but averted his eyes, the thought striking him as both pleasing and intimidating at once. As he watched Neji disappear into the darkness, he thought of another trio that had once not had a future—that Jiraiya had trained just as Neji was doing. He hoped that this story would end differently.

Kakashi made his way stealthily through the rows of tents in the early morning, just as rays of sun were beginning to peak over the mountains and breathe life into the frayed and exhausted encampment of villagers. Ever since the rebuilding effort began, ever since Naruto was welcomed home with admiration and applause, there had been a ceaseless buzzing inside his mind—a worry that behind the shadow of this victory, this lull in the ever-present violence and fear that had shaped the shinobi world since its inception, lay something more sinister taking shape. He could not quite place his finger on it, but he knew that such disturbance and destruction would give rise to uncertainty, and people would seek out a sense of stability in the midst of rapid loss and change. He had watched the cycles of disruption and recovery enough times throughout his lifetime to know that there were always those who would take advantage of the fear and desperation that was stirring deep within the village’s collective psyche. He was proud, of course, of Naruto. He was proud of everyone who had fought against Pain—he had witnessed firsthand once again the courage and loyalty that reawakened a rare sense of pride and hopefulness inside of him. But the image of the nine-tails’ spirit, a mass of deep red chakra that seemed to be without a soul or conscience, writhing above the village, exuding a rage that was both horrifyingly unknown and horrifyingly familiar, was not one that would leave the villagers’ minds soon. Yes, this time it had been in their defense, it had taken the form of a savior, but he knew that there would be those who held doubts about Naruto behind their smiling faces and expressions of gratitude. The shinobi world was always two-faced—one face of loyalty and pride, the other of fear, mistrust, and self-preservation. Both sides were woven deeply into the fabric of the village he knew, and he knew better than to expect change overnight. His doubts were confirmed as he paused to listen to a conversation between shinobi who were setting up a tent near the edge of the a particularly badly damaged corner of the village:

“So we’re just supposed to accept that Naruto kid as our new hero, then are we?” grunted the man.

“You sound upset,” the woman observed.

“How can everyone forget so easily? The attack of the nine-tails before, it was devastating. I lost my sister to it. And now we’re just supposed to trust this foolish little kid who has that thing trapped inside of him? After watching it go on its murderous rampage?”

“It was in our defense,” the woman reasoned. “The boy clearly cares about the village, and if he becomes upset enough to let the nine-tails loose it will likely be because something has posed a threat to it.”

“Even you sound like you’re not so sure about that. There was a reason we shunned him, you know. Everyone seems to have forgotten that. Well, everyone except for a few…” he trails off for a moent, sounding thoughtful, before resuming. “If he could never get close to anyone, that would mean that he would never grow attached enough to anyone that he would have reason to lose control. It may seem cruel to some, but it was necessary, it made sense.”

“I never realized it was that calculated,” the woman said. “I figured that people were just scared of him. Don’t you think that being that isolated would lead to more pent-up rage though? More reason to hate the village? That in itself could have posed a danger.”

“Potentially. Although I hear even now, the friends he’s made… Loyalty to a rogue ninja is ever a good thing. It spells treachery in the future.”

“You’re referring to the Uchiha boy I assume,” said the woman. “He hasn’t been declared rogue, you know. There is still hope that he may return.”

“Everyone knows that the Uchiha were not loyal to the village, they were only loyal to themselves,” the man growled. “And the kid is no different.”

“Be careful what you say,” said the woman, a note of horror in her voice. “The Uchiha were an honorable clan of the village, and it seems cruel to voice such rumors about a clan that was killed so brutally.”

“I’d be willing to bet they had it coming,” said the man quietly.

“I’m not sure I want to continue this conversation. You seem to not understand the meaning of respect and honor, the way you talk.”

“You will come around to see this my way soon enough.”

“I certainly hope not. Although I know more people who agree with you than I wish I did.”

Kakashi grimaced at her last words, walking past brusquely before either would know he had been listening as the woman exited the alleyway between the rows of tents and passed in front of him, her brows pinched and troubled and her head bent low. Kakashi knew that Naruto couldn’t be entirely unaware of the words being spoken quietly throughout the village, the ones hidden in muted tones behind the uproar of celebration and applause—but he hoped that the boy could live in something close to oblivion for at least a little while and enjoy the sensation of admiration, the feeling of his dreams coming true, even if it were slightly more complicated than that, as all things were. 

…..

Something rather troubling had been happening to Sasuke lately in the last few nights. Not unfamiliar but troubling all the same. He kept dreaming of the village. Not in an affectionate way, per se, but in a neutral way, one that didn’t match the gleeful visions of violently taking revenge that had become his most recent passion and fixation. He would wake up remembering the way that moss grew along the stairwell leading up to some of the upper-level shops in the shopping district, making it slippery after nights of rain or frost. He would remember the way the constellations looked in the sky from the window of his old house—the stars were in a different position where he now lived, and had been different at Orochimaru’s lair too. He remembered one of the restaurant owners who always seemed to understand and respect the fact that he was lost in thought and simply didn’t want to be bothered—he would leave him space in the corner without being offended at his lack of friendliness, simply understanding that the world was a bit too much at times. 

These memories were perhaps worse than the fond ones, which could easily be twisted into evoking bitterness by the reminder that they were built on lies and bloodshed—the façade of a village that cared and the illusion of safety and peace. It had been the same with Itachi all those years ago—encountering the occasional fond memory and having to carefully rewrite it in his mind with the understanding his kindness had never been what it seemed, and had merely been a mask for the menacing and bloodthirsty aura that been concealed beneath it all. Of course that, too, had been a lie, something that had to be rewritten with care, every memory being reinterpreted and his life’s journey taking on a new sense of tragedy and futility that he would have to carry with him always. But these neutral memories were all the more difficult because they evoked hints of fondness in their familiarity without enough substance to be channeled into fuel for hatred. 

People around him, whether they were his old teammates or people like Orochimaru who saw him as a means to an end, always seemed to assume that his hatred and desire for vengeance were simply spontaneous emotional impulses that governed his life, overpowering any sense of reason and loyalty and spiraling out of control. He supposed there was some truth to that, but they didn’t understand the amount of work and conscious choice that went into it all. Of course he had chosen vengeance the first time, when the blood had only been newly cleaned off of the streets and the floorboards, when Itachi’s words mocked him in his sleep and death had seemed the only other available option. And of course he had chosen it again and again, because he had learned that friends and family could be lost, they could betray you and turn out to not be what they seemed. But his own torturous thoughts and memories were ever-present, the only sensations that could be relied upon to remain forever because they existed within his own mind. So he had set about the task of turning every emotion—sadness, despair, the fleeting joy of remembered happy moments—into determination and vengeful fury. It had taken the work of sleepless nights and endless unwinding of his own thoughts and emotions, but it was better than the cold blankness that greeted him when he let his mind go idle. In the end he was sure it had saved his life. And so he would do it again, no matter how ill-advised it might seem to some.


End file.
